my bleeding cycles, when my abdomen had cramped so badly that I cried and cried for hours. And the begalia had seemed to work…at first. The pain had disappeared. But then it returned with a vengeance and I had become so sick from the powdered root, vomiting for days, my flesh hot to the touch, feeling like I couldn’t breathe, like I was being stabbed continuously, all over my body.
I had thought my reaction a fluke, though I had never touched the root again. After hearing that the human queen was bedridden after taking begalia, however, I wondered now if the root was poisonous to humans.
If it was, that was problematic. Because begalia was how many Dakkari delivered their babies safely…because the root dramatically lessened the risks of bleeding and infection after the birth.
I remembered my reaction to begalia, how I wondered if I was actually dying, how my mother didn’t sleep for those days, watching over me, whispering to Kakkari when she thought I was asleep. My mother had given me a small amount. For births, the amount given was almost tripled. I couldn’t imagine how sick the human queen must’ve been after her birth.
Did I risk poisoning Addie with begalia, knowing she’d be in a weakened state, though it would dramatically improve the chances of a successful delivery for her child? Or did I risk a natural birth that would be safer for the mother?
“And this human queen and her baby are fine now?” Addie asked when I was done reading the letter.
“As far as I know, lysi,” I said, moving to place the letter back onto my workbench, my mind working. There was something in the back of it, something that was bugging me, something I was trying to remember and couldn’t. Something that might help. I knew the story, the one my mokkira had told me, but I couldn’t remember the detail I sought.
The tent flap pushed open, a chilly gust of icy wind blowing in, making the fire in the basin flicker. It always amazed me how quickly the frost came. One day it could be warm. The next, as cold as ice.
Instead of Hinna and Gabe as I expected, it was Addie’s mate who stepped inside. Jurin.
His expression warmed on Addie and already I sensed that the human female’s shoulders relaxed. Like just being in her mate’s presence made her fears lessen and melt away.
I watched the two of them as Addie hopped off the table and approached him. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and she breathed in the scent of the furs draped across his shoulders.
“Mokkira,” the darukkar greeted, inclining his head. I bowed mine back, briefly, as Jurin looked down at his mate. “Everything is all right?”
“Yes,” Addie replied, though he no doubt saw her reddened eyes. “I’m just worrying too much.”
Jurin’s lips pressed together. His eyes came back to me and I met them steadily. I wondered if he saw my own worry. But I hoped he didn’t.
He nodded and said something to Hinna about making certain she was eating. With a brief wave, I watched as they left my voliki together. And then it was just me, and Essir towards the back, the rhythmic sound of the pounding mortar and pestle filling the space.
I turned back towards the bench and placed my hands on it, my eyes drifting down to the letter. Closing my eyes, I listened to Essir working, thought of Addie’s fear, and I prayed to Kakkari to guide me. To help me.
I let my thoughts go blank. I only listened to the mortar and pestle. In the back of my mind, I felt that thing pushing forward, that thing that was eluding me. Then I thought of Kiran and I felt strength burst in me.
I swore I felt Kakkari respond to the prayers I’d been silently whispering in my mind for the last few days.
And suddenly I remembered what I’d been trying to find. The name.
Adiri.
The rare fungus that grew on adir trees in the south land forests.
“Essir?” I called out.
The rhythmic grinding of the terruni root stopped suddenly.
“Lysi, mokkira?” he asked.
“Do you know if adir trees grow in the forest next to the lake?”
“Adir?” Essir asked, frowning. “I have never heard of them before.”
Kiran will know, I thought. He was from the south lands, after all. He would know the adir. But he had gone out on another patrol earlier that morning. He wouldn’t be back until later tonight and if there